


“…and to all a good night!” (or: Bat-Santa!)

by That_aussie_otaku_hermit



Series: Assorted Batfamily works [3]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, Batdad, Batfamily (DCU), Bruce Wayne being the designated dad, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Christmas, Gen, Gotham Residents, I just made up random names for the Gotham Citizens, Minor Swearing, Yuletide, ladies and gentlemen the Dad Vibes in this man are astronomical, mentions of bruce’s self-destructive tendencies, minor original characters, prompt, various original characters - Freeform, we're gonna pretend it was me waiting for christmas and not procrastination that delayed this, when will Bruce’s characterisation return from the war, yes I just quoted a TikTok sue me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:34:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28260057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/That_aussie_otaku_hermit/pseuds/That_aussie_otaku_hermit
Summary: “Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”- A Visit From Saint Nicholas.In which Batman receives a letter, and Bruce makes plans to bring Christmas to all of Gotham’s children.As it turns out, the Dark Knight is a total sap. His family and friends are not surprised in the least.
Relationships: Barbara Gordon & Jason Todd, Batman & Gotham City, Bruce Wayne & Everyone, Gotham City & Bruce Wayne, Gotham Residents & Batman, Gotham Residents & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Jim Gordon & Bruce Wayne
Series: Assorted Batfamily works [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1694281
Comments: 14
Kudos: 119





	“…and to all a good night!” (or: Bat-Santa!)

**Author's Note:**

> I definitely got carried away with this one. Probably way more Batfam content than you likely intended to spawn from such a post but I can't help myself.
> 
> Inspired by [this](https://the-shit-i-see-in-gotham.tumblr.com/post/622508174594932736/just-an-aussie-otaku) wonderful post by [the-shit-i-see-in-gotham](https://the-shit-i-see-in-gotham.tumblr.com/). I saw this and thought, _“I love this idea. I need to write this.”_ Thanks to OP for giving me permission to write about this. I hope it is an acceptable piece of writing!
> 
> Also, yes, [Santa Claus](https://dc.fandom.com/wiki/Santa_Claus) is a real entity in DC, and yes, every year he does go and give Darkseid a lump of coal. It's goofy reasons like that that I love comics. 
> 
> In case Tumblr does a dumb thing and the post is inaccessible, here’s a transcript (I don’t know how to embed screenshots, sorry): 
> 
> “the-shit-i-see-in-gotham:  
> Guys some shithead kid told my little cousin that Santa doesn’t deliver here because it’s too dangerous so she wrote a letter to Batman and my aunt gave it to the commissioner and he ACTUALLY SENT HER CHRISTMAS PRESENTS.”

**_December 18th, 8:00 PM, GCPD Headquarters Rooftop, Old Gotham._ **

“Thank you, I’ll make sure the League stays up-to-date on the situation,” Bruce nods in thanks, turning towards the roof’s edge and readying his grapple. 

“Oh, uh, hang on, one last thing.”

Jim curses softly, placing his coffee cup down and rifling through the pockets of his overcoat. Why do these things have such huge pockets?

After a few moments of frustrated muttering, Jim produces a small, rectangular, cream-coloured envelope. Slightly bent at one corner but otherwise in good condition.

“It’s a, uh, letter for you. This woman, she, her kid - well, it’s better if you just read the letter. It’ll probably make more sense.” 

Bruce has received more than a few of these letters, and his family are no exception. Letters of thanks or filled with information penned by the city’s residents. Some left on rooftops beneath an unopened medkit, some collated in shoeboxes and left in alleyways and fire escapes for the Bats to discover. Some handed off to store owners - especially Batburger cashiers, in recent years - to pass on to the vigelantes when they pass through. 

Jason’s received plenty from the East End kids and Working Girls; Dick recieves letters from all over, though mostly from Blüdhaven; Tim receives the most intel, save for Bruce and Barbara, and it warms him to think that the kid’s being recognised for his detective skills; even newer additions like Harper, Duke, Tiffany and Luke have recieved their fair share. 

Bruce has seldom received one through Jim Gordon. 

Curious, Bruce takes the letter out of Jim’s subtly trembling hand with great care and inspects it. It’s a nondescript envelope, with “Batman” written in large, wobbly, block lettering. He flips it over and sees that the envelope is sealed with the usual adhesive, but also a small sticker in the shape of a triceratops. 

He tears through the adhesive with one clean swipe, careful not to tear the sticker. 

  
  


_To: Mr. Batman._

_My name is Sasha. I’m six. My mama says you’re a nice man and you help all the kids all the time, so I wanna ask if you can get me a present for Christmas._

_Some other kids told me that Santa doesn’t come to Gotham because it’s too dangerous for him and his reindeer, and that makes me sad. It makes me happy also because Santa won’t get hurt by any meanies or villains and he can give presents to other kids._

_I really like puzzles and dolls and silly socks. lego is also really cool but I never know what to build with it because I always lose the instructions. Anything would be really cool, and i’d love it forever and ever._

_My mama said she’s gonna give this letter to Comissioner Gordon so he can give it to you. I hope you get it soon._

_And I hope meanies and villains don’t hurt you!_

_P.S. Merry Christmas!! Or Hanukkah (i hope i spelled that right). I don’t know what holidays you celebrate, my friend Joey celebrates Christmas and Hanukhah. I know Hanukkah just ended but i wanted to say it wanyway. My Mama said i should just write happy holidays. So, happy holidays Mr Batman._

_From: Sasha._

  
  


The letter is signed with Sasha’s name, apartment address, and sports a large smiley-face at the bottom right corner.

Bruce is gone. Completely gone.

He looks back up at Jim and hands him the letter for him to read. Jim scans through the letter, and when their eyes meet, he can see the gears turning in his head.

“Thank you for passing this on to me. I’ll take care of it.” He pauses, regards the cup in his hand and the scarf around his neck and the sleet piled onto the cobble around them. “Stay warm, Jim.”

Bruce steps off the roof before Jim can get a word in edgewise. 

* * *

**_Later._ **

“Alfred, get everyone together down in the cave or on call, I have a plan. I’m heading back now.”

_“Oh, Lord above, I’m afraid to ask.”_

“Just get them downstairs, please.”

_“Of course, Master Bruce. When am I to do this?”_

“Right now, if you can.”

_“My my, it’s not even ten o’clock. Should I summon Master Constantine to ensure you haven’t been possessed?”_

“Alfred.”

_“Just poking fun, my boy. I will assemble everyone momentarily.”_

“Hn.”

_“Big boy words, Master Bruce.”_

“... Thank you, Alfred.”

_“Lord almighty, you have been possessed.”_

“Hnn.”

* * *

**_December 19th, 5:00 PM, Wayne Manor, Bristol._ **

Kate sighs, falling into another fit of soft laughter. She adjusts the paper across the box of LEGO and tapes the folded section securely over the box. When she’s finished, she hands it to Cass, who secures a pre-tied golden bow to the red paper with a strip of double-sided tape.

Kate’s wrapped presents for kids before - she’d once stayed up for twenty hours straight helping Bruce wrap toys and books for kids at the Gotham General and Gotham Children’s Hospital a few years ago - and she’s wrapped more than a few for Bruce’s own kids. But this new project is insane, even for them. 

She loves it. 

“How does he put out such strong Dad Energy?” She asks Tim, currently measuring out the length of paper he needs to cut to wrap up a doll with all sorts of clothes and accessories. Kate is really not with the times, because she doesn’t recognise the logo on the box. 

“I mean, on top of being the Designated dad for almost the _entire_ Justice League, at this point, he’s basically the defacto parent of all of Gotham City. Does no one think that’s weird?”

Tim shrugs. Slices cleanly through the wrapping apper with the scissors in one clean swipe. She’s never been able to do that. “Daddy issues galore, I guess.”

Kate all but falls off the couch from the force of her laughter, and the roll of tape falls out of her hand and lands on the carpet. 

“You are ruining the tape!” Comes Damian’s indignant shout from the armchair, where he’s stuffing biodegradable confetti into a shoebox to protect the fragile present.

Kate just laughs harder, and the tape rolls across the carpet, picking up dog and cat hairs as it goes. 

“Kane! The tape!”

  
  


* * *

**_December 20th, 1:00 AM, GCPD Headquarters Rooftop, Old Gotham._ **

Jim lets out a sigh of relief, feeling the anxiety and frustration from the last few weeks wash out of him. 

“So they’re finished?”

“The group’s heirarchy has dismantled and Chicago PD is working on indicting the top members on their end. Their drug labs have beens seized and their smuggling rings are in shambles. The product has been seized for destruction.”

“Well, it’s a damn Christmas Miracle.”

Bruce breathes out of his nose in an almost-laugh. Because of course, the Big Bad Batman he can’t be seen smiling or laughing. It would ruin the mystique. 

“So,” he starts, taking a sip from his hideous reindeer mug. “Barbara tells me you’re working night and day to get those presents ready.” 

Bruce cycles through several almost indistinguishable facial expressions before settling on one Jim has come to recognise as pensive. 

“It’s the least I can do, Jim. I was born and raised with everything. Even when… When I lost everything, I always had something. Some of these kids have nothing. No child should have nothing.”

“Amen to that,” he raises his coffee mug in a toast and takes a small sip. 

They sit in an amicable silence for a few moments - so unlike their usual interactions. A siren wails in the distance. 

“You’re a good kid, Bruce,” he finally says. “I mean that. This is a really excellent thing you’re doing, here.”

Bruce nods silently, lenses of the cowl opened wide. 

Then, he gets up and jumps off of the roof. At least he’s consistent. 

On the slab of concrete he’d previously been sitting lies a square box; emerald green adorned with a ruby red ribbon tied in a neat bow.

Jim sets his mug down, and carefully opens the box. 

It’s a stylised Santa mug. 

He chuckles into the frozen night. 

* * *

**_December 21st, 12:00 AM, The Watchtower, Orbiting Earth._ **

A soft laugh from behind him breaks Bruce from his thoughts. He looks up from the gold ribbon he’d just tied into a bow and spies Hal in the reflection of the monitor behind him. He’s standing with his hands on his hips and a smirk on his face. 

Bruce places the freshly wrapped box down on the floor and spins around in his chair to face him. 

“What.”

“Are you really making, buying and wrapping all these presents for those kids?”

“Yes, I am.”

Hal laughs again. “Why are you doing this at 1 AM on the Watchtower?”

“I’m waiting on blood analysis results from Flash.”

“And, what, you’re gonna fly around in your Batplane and para-drop the boxes onto the streets?”

“It was a consideration. A consideration which was quickly denied. We’re now dropping some off at hospitals, community centres and schools.”

Hal nods, “that is a significantly better plan.” 

“I thought so.” He pauses. “Did you need something.”

Hak looks up at him. “Can I help?”

Bruce blinks. 

“I mean, unless this is a ‘you thing’ you wanna do, or whatever--”

Bruce throws the roll of gold ribbon at him, which he, frutratingly, doesn’t even fumble with. “Grab that Scotch Tape and the scissors. We’ll wrap the square one next.”

* * *

**_December 22nd, 2 PM, Gotham Clocktower, Old Gotham._ **

Barbara dials Jason’s number while she waits for the Tower’s coffee machine to finish making her drink. 

He picks up on the sixth ring. 

“O.”

“Hood. How goes those Christmas presents.”

“I’ll do them when I do them, Oracle.”

Barbara scoffs, pushing herself towards the coffee machine when it beeps at her. “Don’t play coy, you’re just putting them off so you don’t have to speak to--”

“Oh, please, me not talking to Batman isn’t news. I’m not putting anything off. I’ve just got other things to do.”

“Like avoid B and the rest of us.”

“Of for--”

“Look; is B a jerk? Yes, quite often. A controlling and self-destructive one at that. But he’s self-aware enough to know that he is a jerk and is genuinely trying to be less of a jerk, and is making headway. I think you should just have a conversation with him that doesn’t involve weapons or The Clown and try and find some common ground.”

“Common ground.”

“Yep.”

“Are you kidding me.”

“Not in the slightest. I’m not trying to make him your responsibility or anything, but I know that he’ll be more than willing to let you do your thing if you checked in with us every now and again. I know I would certainly appreciate knowing when you plan to raid a rival gang’s stash so i’m not sending Huntress and Canary into a burned-out meth lab at 1 AM.”

Jason starts to say something, but a new voice, muffled, gives him pause. 

“Oh, is that Oracle?” Comes a thickly-New-Jersey-accented voice. “Put her on speaker!”

Jason grumbles under his breath but obliges her.

Barbara chuckles, “you got Harley to help you wrap your share of presents?”

“Pam’s here too! Huntress said she'd be here soon as well. We’re making a night out of it.”

“Ah. Still “missing from Arkham”, I see, Harley.”

Harley laughs emphatically. “Oh yeah, we’re real sneaky like that. Bats was real kind to let us have a couple nights out of there for Christmas. We’ll turn ourselves in sometime next week.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Wait, he _let_ you stay out?” Jason asks. His confusion is palpable.

“Yeah. He did that last year, too. Even let Eddie and Ozzie have a night at the ice rink on Christmas eve.”

That’s news to Barbara. Though, definitely not out of the ordinary for Bruce. The old man always was a sap.

“They didn’t break out last year?” He asks. 

“Nope.” Harley answers cheerfully. 

Barbara laughs. “That honestly doesn’t surprise me, at this point.”

Jason is silent for a few moments, and then he chuckles quietly. 

“Well damn, he really is getting soft in his old age.”

Someone else snorts -- Ivy, she’s guessing. “I think Bane’s freshly broken wrist and bruised face would disagree with you there, Hood.”

“Fair.”

A loud rustle of paper crackles over the call and Barbara tilts her head away from the phone. “Hey, I was thinkin’ of gettin’ him something, but I figured a week without crime and revitalising that poor tree outside of Gotham Academy would be plenty.”

“That sounds like an excellent gift. But, if you do find yourself wanting to give this Christmas, there are plenty of small businesses or charities for you to support. So long as the money isn’t counterfeit.”

“Sure thing, Birdie. My transactions will all be perfectly legal!”

Barbara laughs again, grabbing the ugly reindeer mug her dad had bought her from the drawer beneath the coffee machine.

“I’ll let you get back to it, then. I’ll need those presents by tomorrow afternoon at the latest.”

Harley gives an enthusiastic goodbye, and Jason makes a noise that could vaguely be interpreted as an acknowledgement, and Ivy simply says “bye”. The call ends.

Barbara smiles to herself, then grabs the pot of coffee from the machine and pours out her liquid gold. Time to get back to work. 

* * *

**_December 23rd, 8:00 PM, Tricorner Abbey, Tricorner._ **

Bruce twists the screwdriver and watches the nail sink into the washer, grateful the fire escape hadn’t fallen on him yet. He then screws the one below it, and shakes the whole contraption to test its integrity. 

“Thank you, Batman,” Mother Adele says to him when he disengages his grapple and drops down onto the cobbled terrace. He narrowly avoids squashing a rose bush. “Sister Veronica nearly broke her neck trying to fix it; we worried it’d never get it fixed, and I didn’t know who else to call.”

“You don’t need to thank me.”

“Nonesense. I am grateful for your time, so I will express my gratitude.”

“Well, it is the season of giving.”

Mother Adele smiles, and her crow’s feet become even more prominent. “I hope this isn’t an invasive question, but i’m curious, do you celebrate Christmas?”

“...Christmas and Hanukkah.”

“Ah, Hanukkah ended on the 18th, right? I hope you had a good time.”

“It was… Good. Thank you.”

Mother Adele smiles again. 

“As i’m sure you know, Rabbi David is quite the chatterbox.”

Bruce nods. The man was almost as chatty as Barry Allen. 

“It’s a wonderful thing, what you’re doing. I think we could all use a little magic now and again; the children especially. So, thank you.”

“You never need to thank me for helping a child.”

“If only there were more people like you in the world.”

Bruce looks very pointedly down at his Batsuit, and then back at Mother Adele.

Mother Adele makes a sound awfully close to a scoff. “You know what I meant. Now, go be with your family, you frightful creature.”

Bruce can’t stop the laugh that escapes him. He fires his grapple, nods in goodbye, and ascends into the sky. 

* * *

**_December 24th, 6:30 PM, Wayne Manor, Bristol._ **

“Anything I can do, Alfie?” Dick asks Alfred, who’s mashing the potatoes. 

Tim vaguely hears Jim Gordon muttering curses as the Jenga tower collapses. Again. Babs laughs uproariously. Lucius offers his condolences. 

“If you want to be helpful, Master Dick, you may be the Gravy Master for tonight, and set the table.”

“Just that?” He eyes Alfred’s messy apron and the assortment of utensils soaking in the sink. 

“I know you just spent the last eight hours doing little else than hiding and delivering Christmas presents, so, yes, you will “just” be in charge of the gravy and of setting the table. Besides, master Jason would have your hide for interfering with his duck pancakes.”

Dick nods, holding his arms up in surrender. “Right. Gravy Master it is.”

“If Master Cullen wishes to be helpful, he can ask Master Duke for assistance in dissuading Miss Cassandra and Miss Stephanie from collaborating to take a peek at the presents - he may do so by threatening to revoke their Netflix access.”

“Monstrous, Alfred,” Tim splays a hand over his chest, scandalised. 

“And if you want to be helpful, Master Tim, you’ll go wake your father up for dinner.”

Dick regards him curiously. “He’s asleep?”

“It seems his exhaustion has finally caught up with him. Usually I would be remiss to wake him from a sleep he was willingly undertaken. However, it is Christmas Eve, and I would like us all to eat as a family. So, Master Timothy, walk briskly upstairs and drag that nocturnal horror out of his bed so he can consume an unholy amount of food and subsequently pass out in a food coma.”

Tim grinned. “No problem.”

“No sneaking a peek at the presents, either, you two.”

“Right, okay, okay,” Tim says. 

“Walk. Briskly.” Alfred enunciates, returning to his task.

The Jenga tower falls again, and Jim makes several exclamations of gibberish before sighing in defeat. 

Tim grins again, power-walking towards the staircase. 

* * *

**_December 25th, 10:30 AM, Crime Alley, East End._ **

Bruce feels strange being suited up in broad daylight. 

He’s done it many times before, and will certainly do it again in the future, but it still feels strange. He’s self aware enough to realise his ensemble borders on ridiculous at the best of times. However, he has not yet made the design choice to wear bright read booty shorts on top of his pants, so it’s all relative, he supposes. 

Though, he can’t look completely ridiculous, if the awe and joy on the children’s faces is anything to go by. 

He usually leaves East End to Jason, or Cassandra, when she patrols there, but today he has a very important meeting. A meeting at the Crime Alley community center and the children who’d be gathering there. 

  
He’d hoped to have dodged the reporters speaking about the charitable donations Bruce Wayne had made to various parts of the city, but it seems they’re even more punctual than he’d anticipated. He should probably stop using Clark as a reference for punctuality. 

“You came!” Sasha cheers, running towards him and grinning widely. 

Dozens of other kids make their way towards him, dragging siblings and parents along with them. Bruce is hysterically reminded of when Dick dropped a french fry by the Gotham docks and was swarmed by pigeons. 

Two women who Sasha introduces as her mother and her cousin stand behind her in a mixture of shock and joy. It’s an expression Bruce enjoys seeing on people. 

Bruce bends his knees so he rests in a squat, so he’s at eye-level with her. 

“Happy, uh, what do you celebrate?”

“I celebrate Channukah as well as Christmas.”

“That’s so cool!” She punctuates her statement with a small jump of excitement. “My friend Joey does that! I wrote about that in my letter.”

“You did, and that was a very nice thing to add. Plenty of people find that strange.”

“That’s just silly. I just celebrate Christmas. My neighbours don’t celebrate anything.”

“It is rather silly, isn’t it?”

“Oh! I woke up this morning and saw the presents under my tree! I haven’t opened them yet, because we always do that after lunch, but i’m so happy! Thank you so much!”

There are tears in Sasha’s eyes. This is not something he wants to see. Crying children always seem to trigger the most visceral emotional responses within him that he has no idea how to process. 

“Sorry, I cry a lot.”

“That is very natural. Don’t apologise.”

Sasha sniffs. “Would it be weird if I asked for a hug?”

“Not at all.”

Sasha hugs him with such ferocity he almost loses his balance entirely. When she lets go, another kid asks for a hug, and that’s how he spends ten minutes giving hugs and high-fives to the kids of Crime Alley. One young boy prefers to fiddle with his cape, which he allows. It is quite a stimulating thing to fiddle with. 

“Now, Sasha,” her mother says, “before we leave to go to lunch, do you want to give Batman his Christmas present?”

His what. 

Bruce cocks his head, curious, as Sasha darts back towards her mother and digs through her handbag. 

She produces a box and hurries back towards him, holding it out nervously. 

“I didn’t know if you were gonna be able to get me anything, but I wanted to get you somethin’ for Christmas. Uh, here!”

Bruce takes the box. It’s square and black, secured closed with a silver ribbon tied in a bow. 

“My cousin helped me tie it.”

“It’s excellently tied,” Bruce says. He decies sitting is easier, and several kids follow suit. 

Bruce tugs gently at the ribbon and watches it come undone. He opens the lid and sees strips of tissue paper balled up to create padding. He reaches in, wraps his fingers around a solid objects and pulls it out of the box. 

It’s a porcelain figurine of an Agalychnis callidryas - a Red-Eyed Tree Frog. Intricately carved and painted to create a stunning likeness, it’s almost as large as his hand, fingers included. 

This is going on the nightstand in his room. 

“Thank you, Sasha, this is a very thoughtful gift. I love it.”

Sasha grins. “Thanks! But it wasn’t my idea, it was Red Hood’s. He told me once that you like frogs, so I went and found one for you.”

Bruce’s heart lurches in his chest. Jason remembered that?

Sasha gasps and covers her mouth. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you that! Oh, I really am a bad secret keeper!”

Bruce can’t help the smile that spreads across his face. 

“That’s alright, Sasha. I don’t think he’ll be too mad at you.”

“Excuse me, Mr Batman?” Another kid asks, a young boy with pale skin and orange hair. 

“Yes?”

“Um, hi, i’m Sam.”

“Hello Sam,” Bruce extends his hand in greeting, which he’s found is a quick way to defuse tension and awkwardness with kids. 

Sam takes his hand and shakes it.

“Um, is it true that Santa doesn’t come to Crime Alley because, um, it’s so dangerous?”

Bruce shakes his head. 

“Of course not, son. If anything, it’s because he’s busy giving Darkseid a lump of charcoal every year because he’s always on the naughty list.”

A nearby reporter almost drops her microphone. 

“Darkseid… isn’t that the big evil guy who keeps trying, um, to take over the universe?”

“Exactly.”

“Wow,” Sam’s eyes widen. “Santa is awesome.”

“Indeed he is. So, while Santa may be very busy, if he doesn’t visit a place, it’s not because it’s too dangerous, it’s because there are others there doing his work for him.”

“Like you?” 

“Yes. Like me, and all the other Bats. But also all of you; giving gifts to your parents and to your friends.”

“Wow! So you’re like… Bat-Santa!”

The other kids cheer in agreement. One girl approaches and places her Santa hat firmly atop his head. It’s child-sized, so it doesn’t quite sit right, especially on the cowl, but he appreciate’s the girl’s spirit. He adjusts it so it’s hanging off the right ear and smiles in thanks.

Bruce definitely sees a camera flash from somewhere to his left. He hopes they at least got his good side. 

* * *

  
  


**_December 25th, 6:00 PM, Wayne Manor, Bristol._ **

When Bruce arrived home that night, he stripped himself of his suit and washed in the Cave showers. He had dinner with his family, intervened in an argument - _yes_ , Die Hard _is_ a Christmas movie - had a ludicrous amount of desert that was in total violation of his meal plan, and decided to turn in early tonight. 

He hugged and kissed most of his children goodnight, clapped Jason on the shoulder and was delighted when he nodded back, hugged Lucius and Jim, brushed Barbara’s hair the wrong way until she swatted his hand away, and then headed up to his room. 

He opens the door, ready to remove his sweater - a crochet monstrosity made by Martha Kent - and pass out, when he stops dead in his tracks. 

There’s a box on top of his bed. 

It’s an emerald green box about the size of his head adorned with a ruby red ribbon. A small cream envelope rests on top of the box, addressed simply to “Bruce.” 

It’s not Alfred’s handwriting.

Curious and concerned, Bruce opens the box. 

It’s a snowglobe - two of them, actually. 

Two snowglobes containing detailed figurines of every member of Bruce’s family, regardless of legal or blood relation. Jim, Lucius, even Selina and Harley. One has them decked out in their vigilante gear, standing proudly atop a model of Wayne Tower. The other has them in civilian clothes, gathered around a couch that looks suspiciously like the one in Bruce’s living room. Alfred, Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim, Stephanie, Cass, Kate, Barbara, Jim, Lucius, Luke, Tamara, Tiffany, Duke, Damian, Cullen, Harper, Selina and Harley. Even the dogs, the cow and the turkey are there, lying and sitting on the ground in front of the couch.

The glass is high-quality and the base is a sturdy ceramic. Each figurine is carved with such accuracy they must have been formed by using magic. Even their expressions are unique, smiling cheerfully. 

It warms it to his core. 

Bruce can’t say how long he stands in the dim light of his room staring at the two globes. He pretends the wetness in his eyes is seasonal allergies. Bruce does not have allergies.

He gently sets the globes back into the box and opens the card. 

_To: Bruce Wayne; Batman._

_You have done much for the city of Gotham, and the wider world. Wonderful, impossible things. But that night on the rooftop, when you read of that young girl’s misfortune and decided to fulfil her wish,_ _I saw the truest essence of who you are. A man fuelled by compassion and kindness almost unmatched. This action is one that will inspire hope and joy in the people of Gotham for years to come._

_So, from one Santa to another, I hope you enjoy your gifts, and have a very merry Christmas!_

_From: Agios Nikolaus; Santa._

Bruce laughs at the ridiculousness of it all. Oh, Clark is gonna have a field day with this. It’s got a signature and everything. He’d even drawn a smiley-face.

“Never thought i’d say this, but, thanks, Saint Nick. It felt good to be you for a day.”

Bruce swears he sees the smiley face grin and wink at him. 

**Author's Note:**

> I know that the Birds of Prey moved from the Clocktower when Black Mask attacked it and it was destroyed in the ensuing fight between him and Bruce, and they’re supposed to be located in the Platinum Flats (Silicon Valley allegory, I’m guessing) or in Metropolis, but I’m headcanoning that WE rebuilt the Clocktower afterwards and Babs made it a safe-house for any of the Birds to use, and she uses it regularly. Familiar territory and all that. 
> 
> Yes, harley is part of the Batfamily. No I do not take criticism.
> 
>  _Playlist for this work:_  
>  \- Mistletoe and Holly, Let it Snow!, I’ve Got My Love to Keep Me Warm, Fly Me To The Moon, (Frank Sinatra).  
> \- White Christmas (Pentatonix feat. The Manhattan Transfer), Santa Claus is Coming to Town (Pentatonix), as well as the Michael Buble version of that song.


End file.
